Drinks on the Beach
by Dark Kaneanite
Summary: A fic for Nef's great spring prompt. :D Slash, ye are warned.


_A/N: For Nef's Awesome Spring prompt that's too long for me to type and to remember. x3 Anyways, my humble offering. From the pairing submitted by HeartbreakDX. Prompt number 15 and my new favorite pairing as a result of funicity (new word HAH!) to write and epic RP's with the one and only Nef! So enjoy my readers and remember, I don't own these guys, and I have no munny, so no suey!_

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Insanity. Pure and simple insanity. Those were the only words that Bret could think of to describe what he was doing. Sure he knew Mark; hell they'd had some great matches in years past, but their personal lives had led them in very different directions; Bret chasing/fighting with Shawn to make things work and Mark choosing to put his career above everything else in life. So the offer for drinks literally came from left field and before he could understand what he was doing Bret accepted; saying that he would meet Mark at the beach that wasn't too far from their hotel. He had arrived first and sat in his convertible, shaking his head and questioning his sanity. Minutes ticked by and just as he turned his vehicle over to leave the throaty roar of a bike filled the air and Mark pulled to s stop next to him.

For a moment all he could was stare, Mark was in a pair of jeans, a black button down shirt and his hair was pulled back in a braid with a black bandana holding any strays in place. His eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses and for the briefest second Bret wanted to ask for him to take them off so that he could gadge what sort of mood Mark was in. Nimbly he threw one of his long legs over the side and just rested on the seat, his lips situated in a half smile.

"I didn't think you'd actually come."

"And why's that, you believe that I'm the snake everyone paints me as?"

"No, you just seem the type to hang out at the beach with someone you don't know too well."

Mark didn't say anymore after that, he just reached into the saddle bags of his bike and pulled out a two bottles. He looked over at Bret then headed out towards the sand, disappearing over one of the dunes and leaving Bret at the vehicles. He could have just left, leaving Mark to spend his time the way he wanted, but for some reason Bret climbed from the car and after leaving his leather jacket on the seat he trotted after Mark.

As he crested the top of the dunes, the moon broke free of the clouds and winked off the water, making it sparkle as it crashed against the shore. Mark himself was sitting on down a little ways, the light of the moon catching the glass of the two bottle and making them shine. Bret started down the slope at a gentle jog, slowing back down to walk as he came within a couple of yards. Mark didn't turn when Bret took a seat, he just kept silent watch on the sea; silence however wasn't their enemy it was in fact their friend, allowing them gather whatever thoughts they may have before speaking. Still minutes passed and neither turned; the bottles left unopened, jutting from the sand like glittering crooked teeth.

It was Bret who finally broke the quiet, his low voice shattering the calm as he absently brushed sand from his jeans.

"We've never been the best of friends."

"No, but we've always understood each other and you looked like you needed a diversion."

"That's the nice way to say it." Bret murmured sadly as he turned his eyes from the sea to Mark's profile, studying it under the moonlight.

"That and I hate to drink alone and Glenn is too busy playing third to Helmsley and Hardy's sick games."

"Gee Calaway, it's good to know that I was first choice and that you were actually looking out for someone other than yourself."

"Well I don't stroke egos, just ain't my style Hart. You should know that by now." Mark cut his eyes over and chuckled when he seen Bret starting at him with his mouth agape; his lips beginning to move even though no sound came from them.

"I do not have an ego." He sputtered indignantly.

"Sure ya don't Hart-Attack."

Whatever weirdness or tension had been between them slowly melted away until only two comrades in arms remained. The cool breeze from the water enveloped them and Mark tilted his face slightly skywards; the moon catching it and illuminating the pale skin with a seemingly other worldly glow. For a moment Bret could do nothing but stare, totally ensnared by the commanding presence and realizing that he really knew nothing about him other than what he was like in the ring and backstage around crew and other talent.

"For us being here to drink, there isn't a lot of drinking going on."

"Pinky-"

"Don't call me that."

"Hart-Attack..."

"Or that."

"Hart-breaker,"

"Jesus Christ Mark that makes me sound like Shawn." Bret groaned as he rolled his eyes, amused even through his annoyance. "Bret, my name is Bret."

Mark chuckled again, this time turning around to face him; the wind catching the few stray hairs that escaped his bandanna and Bret found the soft gravelly sound just as captivating as the attention grabbing raspy growl he used in the ring when he was calling opponents out.

"Well, then. Excuse me for trying to give you a nickname."

"I have too many to count and some that aren't fit for some ears." Bret teased as he grabbed one of the bottles and twisted it open, taking a healthy swig then holding the bottle out.

"You and I both then."

With a smile Mark took the bottle and tipped it back, pulling a large mouthful and swishing it around before swallowing. The motion had tipped his head back, exposing his neck and showing off the smooth, tattooed skin. The bottle passed between them until empty then the other, the contents half obliterated as it fell to the sand. The stillness of the beach exploded as chuckles and snickers filled the air while clothes were strewn carelessly as they made their way down to the water. Only the moonlight was party to the splashing and horseplay of the two men that were normally associated with all that was severe and adult responsibility.

It wasn't long before they stilled, treading water as they stared at horizon; the stars in the sky reflecting in the water as the moonlight danced over shining torsos. With all the silence of the Undertaker, Mark turned and pinned Bret with a knowing stare, his green eyes boring into it's hazel counterparts. A wind picked up and for a moment Bret's vision was filled with gently moving dark hair and glowing eyes. It was true that Mark wasn't handsome in the conventional sense but under the pale light, glittering with droplets of water Bret could see what so many people-men and women alike-seen in him. Hesitantly Bret moved forwards, his hands brushing over Mark's goose-fleshed arm; the feel making him shiver and mew almost silently. It might have been the alcohol clouding his mind but Bret suddenly had to taste the pale lips in front of him, he brought his hands up and swiped his thumb across them before leaning and capturing them, licking and nipping lightly until Mark opened for him.

The exploration was slow, Mark offering no resistance as Bret pressed close and slid his hands up Mark's chest to his shoulders; gripping them tightly as he wrapped his legs around Mark's waist for support. He was so involved in tasting the forbidden fruit of the 'Undertaker' that Bret didn't realize that he'd been carried out of the water up onto the beach until he was laid down on it. Once more their eyes caught and held; questions shimmering between the gaze but ignored as their lips ought one another again. The air between them soon grew humid and Mark broke away with a harsh pant, his eyes electric with need and want and his voice rough with repressed desire.

"Bret, we shouldn't..."

"Why not?"

"Because we're drunk, and we'll regret it in the morning..."

Bret grinned as he leaned up, flicking his tongue against Mark's lips, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that said Mark was right.

"Marky...I'll regret nothing, never have and never will when it comes to who I take into my bed."

"Not even Shawn?"

"..." Bret blinked his cheeks a fiery color as he stammered, "F-f-fuck you Mark."

With the mood broken Bret tried to get up, wiggling as much as he could under Mark but the taller and heavier man kept him held tightly in place; his hips still moving leisurely as his eyes bore holes into him. Bret tried to scowl, but the intimate motion spread the hot blush from his face to neck and ears.

"Get off me Mark."

"You don't want that..."

"I thought you reaped souls Mark, not raped them."

That barb struck and the lustful look on Mark's face dropped off; the lively eyes cold as he moved back to sit on his knees before standing. The sudden lost of contact and blank look on Mark's face made Bret's guts twisted sickeningly as he moved into a sitting position.

"I didn't mean it that way..." Even to his ears it sounded weak and he winced as Mark picked up the half empty bottle and drained the rest, chucking the bottle as far from him as possible.

"Thanks for coming out with me Hart. Catch you around."

He turned and made his way up over the dunes, his tracks seemingly gathering the moonlight and holding it until the wind blew; dispersing it and the shifted sand. The sound of Mark's bike roaring to life and away sounded in the distance and Bret pulled his knees up; wrapping his arms around them and staring out at the choppy water. His heart thudded painfully and he sighed when he finally pushed himself to a standing position, heading slowly to his convertible and slipping behind the wheel. He gripped the wheel and sat for a moment before turning his car over and ghosting through town; his mind back on the beach and what might have been.


End file.
